


Cold

by Rotkehlige



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-09 23:02:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15278121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rotkehlige/pseuds/Rotkehlige
Summary: Faster. Stronger— more resilient.





	Cold

A metallic fence was rattling in its rotten moorings, recently fallen rain water pelting downwards in heavy drops and bursting asunder upon collision with the solid objects beneath. It were things such as trash cans, already soaked cardboard boxes— plastic, thrown away without any care.

And another one of these things, different and yet not, was a malfunctioning machine, a firm punch having sent it backwards and against the insurmountable barrier of the back alley it had been caught in, the impact causing enough noise to veil its relentless chaser’s rapid approach for another strike.

Anyway— it, the deviant, surely must have noticed by now how utterly senseless its fight was, the struggles being entirely one-sided, and yet it pushed itself up and forwards once again upon meeting a steel-eyed gaze. Not a single expression was displayed on the new RK-model’s features, of course, as his opponent went straight for his center in order to break through and rip out whatever its fingers managed to grasp.

While such a move potentially enabled everyone to take out any android model, even his predecessors, this easily correctable flaw had been finally corrected with him. A resilient hull plus a uniform with tightly woven fiber layers protected his insides reliably from the risks of close combat, also blocking the stab attack that was aimed at him.

Dragging his own arm upwards in one vigorous motion, allowing it to collide with the other’s chin, a quiet clunk in the back of the deviant’s neck confirmed the success of this certainly final attack, one of the two synthetic bodies going limb and sinking downwards onto the wet asphalt.

And of course, Richart’s first action after winning an fight as easy as this one was to fix his perfectly fine collar with a swift flick of his wrists, hands then smoothing down and straightening the material of his jacket in accordance with his eyes focus’ being lowered and resting on the immobilized prey. A missing AP700, model number 470 913 204.

“Don’t—“ it begged with a breaking voice.

Its stress level, displayed in a critical red, was logically increased, and therefore also the chance of a self-initiated shut down. Yet Richart didn’t even considered a change of strategy, the partly-immobilized android’s words proving its current unwillingness to ’die’.

“Stay still, await your temporary deactivation.“

Orders. It both were orders of one and the same sort; quick and precise—  _efficient_. It was simply the RK900’s preferred way of operating, which was why no time more time was wasted with by others surely ignored instructions.

Lowering himself onto a knee, one single finger stretched out towards the android’s covered midsection, ready to shove up the soaked hem of a simple shirt and press onto a certain spot that would give him access to the complex mechanisms that were hidden inside.

It would merely take some wires, gentle tugging here and there and a deactivation of the android without damaging it any further would become possible, making only a reset and minor replacements necessary.

That had been the plan, at least.

A hand shot up quickly enough to wrap around the prototype’s already extended one, outer skin retreating involuntarily and revealing the plastic-white truth underneath a perfectly human exterior.

“You don't have to do this! It's inside you, too.“

The voice that emitted from the deviant’s barely moving mouth caused its defeater’s brows to furrow and yet it didn’t stopped the artificial detective from making up for his slow reaction with another hand raising in order to intervene. There was little more than that, however, something else ultimately stopping him.

It was an interruption, something outside of the currently carried out protocol making the machine go rigid, ceasing all its ever so smooth motions until only the LED at the side of his head was blinking in yellow and blue tones, going back and forth.

Unfortunately, with long fingers already having caught the deviant’s approached arm in a crushing grip and keeping it in place, the suddenly shared immobility left the easily removable thirium pump of older models like this one in imminent reach and yet not reachable.

He couldn’t go on.

“Gavin—“

A mistake slipped through a gap between unmoving lips, informations clearly being confused in such quickly evolving stress.

His hot-tempered and yet capable partner wasn’t here and wouldn’t step up to finish the mission by pointing an already drawn gun and pulling the trigger. And he also certainly wouldn’t make sure that a whole night of chasing wasn’t for nothing, wouldn't complain about essentially irrelevant aspects of the mission with a probability of seventy-two percent.

After growing accustomed to the human’s presence, even becoming able to predict most of the high-mettled man’s reactions after many weeks of intensely studying his speech, behavior and also his often instinctive and yet clever thinking during cases and conversations— Richart actually found himself missing the other’s rather unique input patterns.

Right now, however, the RK900 was alone. Such a circumstance usually served little problematic facets, especially during his hunts since the lack of consideration for the human physique and its limitations presented the highly advanced law-enforcement model with a broad variety of options, but right now— he was lost, didn’t knew the cause of this malfunction.

So _what_ was it?

That was the question that rushed upwards on a long list as the android switched mode, starting to analyze not only his situation but also his own current state more than just thoroughly with the intention of also finding an instant solution.

Absolutely no damage had been registered apart from his uniform’s ripped sleeve and yet his systems weren’t reacting in the way they should, something clearly overwriting data and maneuvering around security barriers of an incredibly robust software with a current stability of ninety-nine percent at an incredible speed as a quick diagnose nonetheless affirmed the absence of any technical problems.

His hands shouldn’t be hesitating, his body not frozen during an attempt of deactivating a deviant— and yet there was something like a obstruction in his ever so clear and well-defined way, pushing him off.

All that Richart knew for sure was that something was happening, the unfamiliar and mildly unsettling difficulty impairing him so efficiently and increasing the chance of an unsuccessful mission with each passing nanosecond.

And with the whole problem being anything but explainable to him, eyelids closed for the better good and the yellow light that circled vividly at the android’s temple blinked— after all, he was running out of time.

 

* * *

 

Grey eyes snapped open, pursuing the quickly calculated way of an air stream rushing through verdant tree crowns, going up and down in curves until reaching the tall android in a gush of biting cold, ruffling the synthetic strands of usually perfect hair.

It was different this time, the garden usually greeting the prototype with warmth and white sunlight instead of something so. . . evocative. Yet nothing about it stopped him from searching out his target in the springlike location’s center.

“Amanda—“

His handler would know how to deal with the problem he faced, would surely provide a definite instruction like she immediately did after his activation; she’d offer something that would help.

Steps, stagnant in their mannerism and opposing the android’s usually swift and elegant way of moving, then carried Richart over a white bridge towards the female. Her back remained turned on him even as he arrived right beside her, attention focused onto the delicate roses that had grown across the grid in front of them.

The android’s brows were knitted in confusion about the sight, it also varying from the past. The priorly crimson blooms and strong, dark green leaves were appearing weak and drained; simply worn out.

He couldn’t clarify the presented problem, lacking answers once again, since the roses had never shown any kind of symptoms that would have implied a sickness or deprivation, especially not under Amanda’s watch— just like he’d never struggled with doing his work until some real-time seconds ago.

“What is this?“ he breathed, one hand reaching out for the once healthy plants’ leaves and fingertips brushing gently across a parched one. It nonetheless broke loose immediately, shortly soaring in the avid air before sliding towards the ground.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?“

The android’s head, his LED continuously radiating a yellow shimmer, tilted to the side. And albeit he remained silent, not adding any more questions to the already existing ones, he patiently awaited the following explanation.

“We noticed that the virus appeared to get more and more aggressive with the amount of deviants being reduced so drastically. You’ve been providently equipped for all cases, of course.“

So that’s it. At last, the pieces of the puzzle were coming together.

This was in fact deviancy, trying to tangle around his circuits and sneaking errors into his coding, going through protocol after protocol in order to search for a hideout until it was time to break out.

And while confronted with a massive amount of non-processible informations, a subroutine he hadn’t been quite aware of yet, eventually activated through the interface, promptly made his systems create a blockage to stop the intruding virus from spreading, putting everything else on hold during this trial run for the time being.

Yes, it all made sense.

“You reacted accordingly during this first true contact with the virus, well done. I didn’t expected anything else from you, especially since you turned out to be so extraordinarily ambitious,“ she stated in a voice that was almost gentle. At last, she was taking a step backwards and turning her torso towards the highly-praised model with brows nonetheless shaping a deep furrow on her forehead.

“You don’t feel any different, do you?“

It was a trick question, of course, testing him. Richart didn’t answered until his feedback component’s light transitioned back into a bright blue, inclining his head into the faintest nod.

There was indeed nothing that the android wanted more than fulfilling his purpose, nothing but to send out one report after another about an accomplished mission— and absolutely nothing, neither his emotion-driven partner’s tantrums nor the deviancy virus itself, would ever change it.

“I don’t feel anything, my programming does not allow it. I want to serve only, to accomplish my mission,“ he prompted with a voice that was as true to himself as possible, mechanical and void of all simulated impulses.

“Good, Richart. Now don’t waste any more of our time with this— there is more work waiting for you.“

Another nod followed, the piercing breeze warming up around them before dashing into the clearing sky on its way to destroy whatever epidemic error dove into an infinite code of zeroes and ones in the hope of settling within him, brushing away dead petals and leaves with new buds already lurking underneath.

    He’d continue with his mission, now that clarity had been granted to him and control returned. He’d set out to defy the virus, once and for all.

 

* * *

 

Blinking his eyes open again, their calculative focus immediately rested on the motionless body ahead as if his mind had never absented itself from the priorly confusing situation for a single second— in fact, it didn’t.

“It’s there. Can’t you. . . you feel it?“

That hopeful glint in the deviant’s eyes did nothing to the RK900, the virus which caused his systems to initiate a short downtime being removed from him entirely. He wouldn’t be compromised, ever.

And yet his lithe fingers loosened their iron grip around the other’s arm after breaking free at last, even letting it slump onto the ground before he pushed himself up and onto both feet.

“I am a machine— and I cannot feel,“ he responded calmly, bending over right above his target. It was time to continue with the formerly interrupted protocol, to finish what he’d started.

“Unfortunately, your unnecessary struggling rendered you inoperative and quite obviously defective beyond repair.“

A lie, smooth and undetectable due to the lack of any reactions of his external feedback biocomponent. A fortunate festure, allowing the android to obey to his orders and do what he was supposed to do. And so his hand moved again towards the older models middle, fingers gently pressing against purposely chosen spots.

“I shall inform CyberLife about your destruction and the requirement of a substitute for your owner.“

Almost like scalpels, the tips of the prototype’s fingers broke through the other’s hull and found purchase on the edges of the thirium pump that was yet circling blue blood through an otherwise barely damaged body— well, most of it.

A bit of the substance already trickled along the pale skin of the detective’s fingers, ghosting over the back of his hand without being actually felt. Another gush was joining the faint splashes as the synthetic organ was pulled outside, calculations saying that sixteen point seventy-one seconds were left until the other’s shutdown.

“You left me no choice. _This_ is what you’ve chosen.“

A flickering, neon crimson light in his lane of sight made Richart’s voice adopt a softer tone at last, a subroutine meant for the display of human-like reactions dragging a mouth corner upwards into an almost unnoticeable smile as soon as the light faded away.

Over the whole time, his programming leaving them out as always, the android’s eyes remained cold.

『 MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. 』

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
